almost-always-eventually-right:
I was drawing a bunch of pentagrams in my notebook during math class because I was bored and I think I drew 150 pentagrams in total before a devilish-looking guy wearing a red suit broke down the door of the classroom and yelled “wHAT the fUCK do you wANT?!”
this username escapes me every single time
Personally, I don’t really see anything wrong with giving Luke to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. What else was Obi-Wan gonna do? (He pretty much raised Anakin and look how that turned out, he’s not gonna risk Round 2.) (He could have given both kiddos to Bail and Breha Organa, actually. Luke and Leia Organa is a cool as heck AU.)
I like Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. As much as people like to say Luke really is Padme’s son, he didn’t get those morals from her. (Keeping in mind I have read no comics or novelizations, and not seen the Clone Wars TV show) It’s pretty clear that Luke’s iron spine and goodness and refusal to abandon his friends come from his upbringing. Owen and Beru Lars are kinda the Ma and Pa Kent of the Star Wars universe.
And they are Luke’s family. Owen is Shmi’s stepson. Owen and Beru probably knew Anakin’s mother for years. It’s a neat circle, and in some ways it has the feelings of an apology, for Obi-Wan to bring Luke back to his family on Tatooine in the same way that Qui-Gon took Anakin. Obi-Wan can’t undo what’s been done, and he can’t start over, but he can give Luke what the Jedi denied Anakin: a loving family and normal upbringing.
Tatooine is Darth Vader’s home planet? Yeah, sure, but did Anakin ever go back to Tatooine? (Probably once or twice, I’m guessing, in the comics at least.) Darth Vader hates that place. Bad memories. Damn sand would fuck up his suit. He’d burn it all down and then the Hutts are gonna be pissed. And how many people actually know that Darth Vader is Anakin Skywalker? Like, about five? (Bail, Obi-Wan, Yoda, R2-D2, and Ahsoka?) Dude is not exactly getting invites to school reunions and the weddings of childhood friends, is all I’m saying.
Even if Darth Vader ever went back to Tatooine, Tatooine is a big place. The Lars Farm is in the middle of nowhere and Obi-Wan is hanging out left of the funky rock five miles past nowhere. Anakin met his stepbrother once in the entire film trilogy and idk if they even exchanged words, much less space e-mail addresses. I kind of doubt that Uncle Owen and Darth Vader are sending each other Life Day e-cards. (That’s really funny, actually.)
Anyway, the point of this rant is that I want you to imagine new parents Owen and Beru Lars caring for toddler Luke, it’s just after Life Day, and someone rings the doorbell. Owen Lars opens up to Darth Vader holding a fruit basket, because he didn’t know what else to do for Life Day and spontaneously decided to visit distant family rather than mope in his Evil Castle again.
(Everything Obi-Wan hoped would never happen, just… happening.)
Owen, after introductions, panicking, “Uh… the suit is… new.”
He has to invite Vader in, because it’s Life Day and how exactly do you tell Darth Vader to fuck off? Then Owen and Beru have a hushed argument in the kitchen while Darth Vader is sitting awkwardly in their living room with a drink that he can’t actually drink but took to be polite. When they come out, they introduce Luke as Luke Whitesun, Beru’s late brother’s kid, which they guess makes Luke… Darth Vader’s… nephew. (They can’t hide him, Vader’s already seen this 2-3 yr old Luke and the house is COVERED in baby and kid stuff.)
And Darth Vader just… fucking falls for it.
And the Lars family has to spend the holidays with Uncle Darth Vader who is super keen to have a step-nephew-in-law. Beru is showing off her cross-stitching to Darth fucking Vader as Luke plays at their feet. Owen is in the kitchen sending a desperate space text to Obi-Wan, who basically has a heart attack on the spot when Owen sends a shitty stealth-pic of Darth Vader on their couch.
Bonus points if the Lars’ don’t even move after this, because Vader left without issue and Uncle Owen afterwards was like, “It turned out fine. I don’t want to move, that’s too much hassle.” So, every major holiday, Luke gets a visit from his Uncle Darth Vader, which works out fine so long as they instigate a “Don’t Talk About Politics” rule when Luke starts getting excited about Rebellions and starts bad-mouthing the Empire (Vader making small talk at a Star Destroyer water cooler to his terrified staff: “Ugh, I’m going to have to debate my liberal 13-yr-old nephew at the dinner table again.”), and Vader even helps with the dishes and stuff, and every time Obi-Wan ages an extra year from stress.
Guys, please, the way this continues is that the general events of the Star Wars universe continue as normal (Leia, having literally just left a space battle: “Darth Vader, the AUDACITY of attacking an innocent diplomatic vessel!”) UNTIL the stormtroopers show up at the Lars Farm. (Luke is desperately chasing down the droids he lost and properly meeting Obi-Wan Kenobi.)
At first, it’s business as usual, y’know? Stormtroopers break down the door and interrogate the occupants and start prepping to burn the place down, and the leader is in the middle of shouting, “TELL US WHERE THE DROIDS A-” when he pauses and just… stares… at the mantlepiece.
Because on the Lars family mantlepiece and walls are, like, a hundred family photos and roughly half of them have Darth Vader in them. There’s Darth Vader wearing a Life Day party hat at a dinner table. There’s Darth Vader holding a toddler and playing with model ships. There’s Darth Vader and a pimply thirteen year old in the stands at the Boonta Eve Classic. There is a cross-stitched pillow on the couch that says OUR FAMILY on it, consisting of a man, a woman, a boy, and Darth fucking Vader.
Stormtrooper Grunt #1: “What… what… what the fuck.”
Aunt Beru, who has HAD it with these guys wrecking her house, already angrily jabbing at their space phone: “I am calling Mr. Vader RIGHT NOW about this.”
Darth Vader, excusing himself from the bridge of his Star Destroyer to take a call from his stepsister-in-law: “Beru. This isn’t a good time-”
Beru: “Well, MAKE TIME, because your stormtroopers broke down our door and tracked SAND all over my nice clean floors and they won’t stop yelling about the droids we just bought! You better have a good explanation for this!”
Darth Vader does not, actually, have a good explanation for this. The stormtroopers can feel his wrath from across the galaxy. It’s a work thing and he’s very sorry and he’ll make the stormtroopers fix their door, but he does really need those droids and could they hand them over, please? He’ll have the Empire compensate them. Yes, he’ll pay them back and send new droids. Yes, kicking doors down is very rude, Beru, you’re absolutely right.
So Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru promise to pick up Luke and the droids, and hop in the spare Landspeeder to go looking for them. Owen is Not Happy to find that Obi-Wan’s given Luke a lightsaber, and Aunt Beru is Not Happy to find out that the Empire’s made some superweapon. Of course they have to get these plans to the Rebellion! Yes, she promised Vader, but he should have told her it was for such a terrible thing! Yes, Owen, they’re all going to Alderaan.
So the Lars family runs away to Mos Eisley and get on the Millennium Falcon to Alderaan, while the stormtroopers are standing around like, “Are they… coming… back???” And Han Solo does not know what the hell is going on or what to do about the Weird Old Wizard talking about “universe-penetrating magic”, or the Grumpy Farmer who keeps trying to fix his “piece of junk” ship that excuse you does not need fixing, or the Sunny Farm Boy waving a light sword around, or the kindly old woman who is currently cross-stitching in his back seat and gossiping with Chewie like he’s not even there.
Later, after the Death Star’s been destroyed, Owen and Beru Lars are now a part of the Rebellion with Luke. Beru sends Darth Vader a piece of fabric in the Space Mail, and it’s the little cross-stitched Vader from her OUR FAMILY pillow who’s been cut out because she’s mad at him. (Except her note says DISAPPOINTED and that’s worse.) Darth Vader is more upset about this than the Emperor being mad at him for the destruction of the Death Star.
One of the most powerful moments I experienced as an ancient history student was when I was teaching cuneiform to visitors at a fair. A father and his two little children came up to the table where I was working. I recognised them from an interfaith ceremony I’d attended several months before: the father had said a prayer for his homeland, Syria, and for his hometown, Aleppo.
All three of them were soft-spoken, kind and curious. I taught the little girl how to press wedges into the clay, and I taught the little boy that his name meant “sun” and that there was an ancient Mesopotamian God with the same name. I told them they were about the same age as scribes were when they started their training. As they worked, their father said to them gently: “See, this is how your ancestors used to write.”
And I thought of how the Ancient City of Aleppo is almost entirely destroyed now, and how the Citadel was shelled and used as a military base, and how Palmyran temples were blown up and such a wealth of culture and history has been lost forever. And there I was with these children, two small pieces of the future of a broken country, and I was teaching them cuneiform. They were smiling and chatting to each other about Mesopotamia and “can you imagine, our great-great-great-grandparents used to write like this four thousand years ago!” For them and their father, it was more than a fun weekend activity. It was a way of connecting, despite everything and thousands of kilometres away from home, with their own history.
This moment showed me, in a concrete way, why ancient studies matter. They may not seem important now, not to many people at least. But history represents so much of our cultural identity: it teaches us where we come from, explains who we are, and guides us as we go forward. Lose it, and we lose a part of ourselves. As historians, our role is to preserve this knowledge as best we can and pass it on to future generations who will need it. I helped pass it on to two little Syrian children that day. They learnt that their country isn’t just blood and bombs, it’s also scribes and powerful kings and Sun-Gods and stories about immortality and tablets that make your hands sticky. And that matters.
This is a really large project and not one which I’m remotely qualified to figure out by myself, but here are a few disconnected thoughts:
For a lot of people especially in the early stages of coming out, it can be easier to say, e.g. “I want to be a man,” than “I am a man.” The prevailing narrative right now is that a trans man was always a man and doesn’t leave much room for desire or becoming. This narrative is convenient for people who can confidently assert a transgender identity, but it makes it hard for people to recognize the qualitative experience of dysphoria, which very frequently manifests as wanting to be rather than feeling like you already are. I don’t think it would be a good idea to replace one totalizing narrative with another one, but if there had been a little more pluralism in how we talk about these things I wouldn’t have had to worry if it was offensive to trans people for me to think about wanting to be a woman without being one.
Due to both community dynamics and the narratives we’ve settled on, it can be really difficult for someone to recognize commonalities between their experiences and trans people’s while thinking of themself as cis. Cis people (and “cis” people) are told that they can’t understand what it’s like to be trans, that transitioning would make them incredibly dysphoric and if they don’t realize that it’s because of a failure of introspection, that it’s offensive to even make the comparison. This results in closeted trans people assuming that their experiences can’t possibly be the same as trans people’s and therefore don’t constitute any evidence that they might be trans.
People keep throwing around the phrase “gender identity” like it refers to a specific qualitative experience, of course without describing what that experience feels like. (Giving such a description would be impossible because that’s not what gender identity is.) How the fuck is anyone supposed to know what their gender identity is when you put it that way?
There were some things that the trans student organization at my undergraduate university did that seemed really helpful in ways that I don’t see very often. It was explicitly for trans people “and allies”. I don’t think anyone showed up there because they were a cis person who just really wanted to support trans people, but it meant people could show up without being sure they were trans, or without being comfortable asserting a trans identity. People could make friends and work through questions, and if they eventually decided they were cis they could keep showing up and maintain their relationships and place in the community. A significant fraction of the organization body didn’t identify during the time of my involvement as anything other than the gender they’d been assigned at birth, and they weren’t considered lesser members of the community for it. This made it a place where people could figure things out in a low-stakes environment without worrying that their place in the community was predicated on eventually coming to the right answer. I don’t think that every trans community should be like this –it is understandable and legitimate for trans people to want a community where they don’t have to deal with cis people– but if there were more communities like that one I think it would be really helpful.
In the sphere of Yelling About Things On The Internet, I think it would be beneficial for trans people to engage more seriously with things cis people write about their experiences with gender. Existing engagement tends to involve grouping experiences into either “you’re cis so your experience has nothing to do with mine as a trans person” or “you’re actually trans, you just don’t know it yet”. Actually listening and examining points of similarity and difference without trying to fit everything into a particular narrative doesn’t happen very much. This would make those conversations more accessible to questioning people, and would also aid in the development of language to help clarify the qualitative differences in question. Obviously no one’s obligated to do this kind of outreach, but I think it could do a lot more good than some of the other things people devote their energy to, like arguing with TERFs.
A position I’ve been turning over in my head lately is that a lot of the problems this approach is designed to fix come from the intersection of trans advocacy and SJ culture generally. The basic framework of modern SJ is that there are a handful of binary “axes of privilege” that define the social dynamic and one’s position within it – usually three to six, but never enough – and someone on the “privileged” side of an axis isn’t permitted to contradict or criticize someone on the “unprivileged” side on anything pertaining to that axis. On the whole, people on the “privileged” side are expected to function as silent Pythagorean initiates sitting outside the curtain in any serious discussion of those issues.
I think this approach causes problems across the board, but I can recognize that in many situations it’s trying to solve an actual problem by giving the control of small, personalized spaces (those where this philosophy holds sway) to people who are disenfranchised in the broader social sphere. The problem with applying this logic to the trans/cis binary is that in terms of social perception and usually self-perception, everybody is presorted as cis. That’s what “cisgender” means. When you apply this sort of logic to a category like trans/cis, the effect is that it pushes most people toward the “privileged” category that isn’t allowed to talk about the subject and locks them there, except the ones who are so eager to be allowed to have an opinion on the subject that they’re prepared to adopt whatever affiliation gives them the right – who can be very nice people in their own way but aren’t really the group you want to select for.
I think it’s good to include allies in general for the reasons mentioned in the OP, but I think the word “allies” should never be used under any circumstances as it’s unsalvageable by this point. It’s functionally an idpol category of its own just for people who want to help out with other idpol categories. Setting aside the fact that “allies” have a justifiably bad reputation as making other people’s problems about themselves and being in it mainly for their own woke self-image, the term imports the entire narrative where you’re a pair of hands with no right to an opinion. I can’t imagine any context where I would ever be willing to identify as an “ally” of anything in the SJ sense on account of all the freight yoked to it, so a group that’s for “trans people and allies” is still a group where I’d feel unwelcome. If you want to know what would work to be genuinely inclusive: make it a community of shared interest or goals, rather than centering it around an identity group and assuming that the shared interest and goals will follow naturally.
I am unwilling to give up “allies” just yet, since many of the queer adults I know used to think they were “allies”; I just reject the “no right to an opinion” narrative. Everyone’s entitled to an opinion, they may not be entitled to a ton of deference to it.
But also, yes, I have known so many trans people who were severely harmed by the “cis people can’t have these thoughts or opinions” notion. Understanding that gender dysphoria is a thing most cis people can also experience is incredibly useful.
Most cis women, if they thought about “being a man”, would experience revulsion and horror. It would feel awful. Same for most cis men thinking about “being a woman”. That’s gender dysphoria. If you think you’re a cis woman, and you think about being a man, and it sounds awesome and comfortable? You’re probably not actually what we normally mean by “a cis woman”.
Metro Division: *flicking light switch on and off* WELCOME TO HELL
Invictus, William Ernest Henley
ashley williams for the mass effect ladies project
this website is really uniquely terrible in nearly every way but where else am i gonna put my posts about batman being named after bruce springsteen. do i post that on facebook? do i email my mom
The best explanation of Tumblr’s appeal that I’ve seen
everywhere else you speak TO people, specific people, one at a time or in small groups
here you can scream into the void, and if a passing weirdo likes it they can give you a thumbs up or pass it along to their weirdo friends who might like it too
the real reason i’m still here
If you ever feel like you must be the most unobservant person in the world, remember: I once spent half a year failing to notice that my new favourite restaurant was a money-laundering front for the Ukrainian mafia.
(I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but in retrospect, the fact that it was always dead no matter the time of day – I think the busiest I ever saw it was five people, myself included – well, that should have been a tipoff. Also, the waitstaff kept calling me “Mr. Prokopetz”, which I had assumed was just part of the restaurant’s gimmick, but given that “Prokopetz” is a Ukrainian surname, I’m now force to wonder whether they’d thought I was, you know, in the business. I just liked the pierogi!)
What I need to know is how on earth did OP finally realize his favorite restaurant was a money-laundering front for the mafia.
I’d like to say I put together the clues, but in reality, I just showed up one day to find that the place had been indefinitely shut down, and later learned it was because the managers had all been arrested.
What I really want to know is how good the food was?
Excellent, if your tastes run to the “heavy cream and too much garlic” end of the spectrum.
Every crime front I’ve ever eaten at has had completely amazing food, honestly. I am pretty convinced that if you want to open a front, you don’t choose “restaurant” as your front-business unless you have a relative who loves to cook.
It tickles me that this is evidently a sufficiently common experience that people find it relatable. (Seriously, check the notes!) We should write reviews or something.
did I just read the line “every crime front I’ve ever eaten at” with my own two eyes
Look, I went to college and lived my early adulthood in a town whose entire thing was import/export, and we had a lot of restaurants that were suspiciously empty except when they were closed and filled with very serious men in nice clothes.
They were usually run by someone who was about the right age to be some adult’s parents or grandparents, and in the case of the two Korean restaurants matching this description, they didn’t speak English. Universally though, they were very pleased to see customers, very proud of their cooking, and very very interested in keeping us far away from the aforementioned serious men in nice clothes. And despite having huge dining rooms and never having more than a couple customers, they never went out of business.
Also, because I am very, very stupid and sometimes don’t think before I talk, I once said loudly, over the phone, while sitting in one of these places, “Hey! Yeah if you want to meet us, we’re eating at [place]. You know…[place]? You totally know it. The Front, on Warwick st!”
The looks I got from every single employee were amazing and then I left.
We had a corner store/deli-place near our apartment in college. Everyone knew they were in on something and no one cared because they looked out for their customers and their neighborhood as a whole.
They started stocking my favorites because I mentioned them within hearing range once, would tell their “vendors” to move out of the way if we stopped in. I walked a different route home and got harassed one night and they asked after me. When they found out what happened, they declared “Consider it taken care of, you should never be afraid around here.” Never happened again.
Everyone needs their friendly neighborhood crime lord.
This is both my favorite and makes me fondly remember home. Less of the eateries, more of the mysterious retail joints that never seem to close despite no one ever buying anything, though. Well. Aside from the juice bar. Didnt last, though.
I found these places everywhere I lived. My favorite was an omurice place near my home in Japan, and a mother/son officially ran it. The food was incredible, and one night I was there and there was a boisterous crowd of BLATANTLY yakuza men eating and drinking. They started talking to me, and were super nice. Said they wanted to “practice their English,” and paid for my food and drinks and then said they wanted to take me to karaoke. That was a little alarming, but the mother/son, who seriously looked after me as the only foreigner in the area, said I should go, and the son came along. So we piled into a white landboat Cadillac and partied until dawn.
One of the older men at the party took me to my neighborhood and dropped me off out front (the car was literally too big to fit down the small neighborhood streets) and said that I had his blessing.
Which was confusing, but I was drunk, so whatever. Then I went back to the restaurant about a week later and the mother said, “the family approves of you. You may marry our son if you wish and be welcomed.”
I did not marry him, but wow. There were no hard feelings, either. They still helped out if I got harassed by the cops (which happened a lot in these smaller towns with no foreigners) or anything like that.
And to this day, no omurice has ever compared.
i’ve never heard for sure one way or the other about mai village in st. paul, but i have long had my suspicions. frogtown is not a wealthy neighborhood, and there are more vietnamese restaurants than gas stations, yet this particular one can afford embroidered menu covers, vast amounts of intricately carved wood, and an indoor pond with koi the size of a grown man’s arm? plus the light rail line being built shut them down for like a year but they bounced right back.
and like the other restaurants mentioned in this thread, the food is outrageously good, and the staff is extremely friendly and responsive to repeat customers. though it’s not usually empty. there’s a party room you can, in theory, rent, but it’s always booked up, even when the grandiose hand-carved double doors are standing open and you can see there’s no one in there. 😀
as far as i know for sure, though, the only crime they’re 100% associated with is the crime of ruining me for any other restaurant’s spring rolls.
dadd:
*stays home*
i should’ve gone out*goes out*
i should’ve stayed home
just moving along like everyone else 